


The General's Private Fantasy

by captain_sassy_socks



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 12 Days of Fic-mas, F/M, Season/Series 08, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_sassy_socks/pseuds/captain_sassy_socks
Summary: Jack's fantasy comes true, or doesn't it?
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	The General's Private Fantasy

A knock announces an unexpected visitor late in the evening.

“Come in,” Jack replies without taking his eyes off the report between his fingers. The consumption of toilet paper has risen by 12% in the last month. Hmm, strange. He rakes his brain but doesn’t come up with a reasonable explanation. They didn’t host an alien delegation in that time or had any unusual incidents like base-wide diarrhea of food poisoning. Jack scribbles down a note in the margin for Walter to follow up on the mysterious surge. 

Noiseless, the door opens a crack, and a figure slips in. The unique sound of clicking footsteps approaches him.

On the other hand, the consumption of paper towels has declined by 8%. Jack frowns. Does someone on this base not know the intended purpose of each article? “Yeah?” he mutters, and another remark lands on the document.

The other person doesn’t answer and thereby forces Jack to lift his gaze. His jaw drops. His 2IC leans against the side of his desk, immaculately dressed in her uniform. Her toned legs, shiny, manicured fingernails, ruby lips, golden hair, and sparkling eyes take his breath away. “Ca-Carter?” Jack stammers and tries in vain to hide his physical response at the sight of this stunning vision.

A wicked grin stretches over her face at his feeble attempt. She pushes herself off and closes the distance with two slinky steps. With ease, she swivels his armchair to come face-to-face with him and spreads his legs with her own.

Jack sucks in a breath as she invades his personal space, and the subtle fragrance of her woody oriental perfume enchants his nose. Her fingers glide through his hair, trace the shape of his scarred eyebrow, and ghost over his chin.

His voice quavers. “Carter, wh-what are you do-doing?” Maybe she’s under the influence of some alien drug or… virus. Unlikely, the voice in his head argues. SG-1 has been off the roster for the last seven?… eight?… whatever days since Daniel assists SG-7 with the cataloging of Ancient artifacts on P4… or 5… X-something, and she runs in-depth diagnostics of primary and secondary systems. He verified her progress just a few hours ago.

“Don’t you like it?” she asks in what he would classify as a bedroom voice. “Don’t you want it?” Her thumb pulls down his bottom lip.

Another brain cell goes up in smoke.

“No-not the po-point.” Jack gulps as excitement and the thrill of the forbidden rush through his veins. On their own accord, his hands travel up her smooth legs and disappear beneath her skirt. No pantyhose. A violation of the dress code he _very_ much appreciates right now. He should resist and end whatever this is before they incriminate themselves, but his vocal cords do not cooperate as she loosens his tie.

Jack’s heartbeat quickens as she blindfolds him. The deprivation of his visual sense heightens every other sensation—her leg pressed against his, the rustle of fabric, fingers popping the collar button—and sends a titillating shiver across his skin. Like a pendulum, he sways between fear and lust until her hot breath tickles his ear, and she whispers, “Let me help you relax, sir.”

The purred honorific shoots straight to his core. It feels so wrong given their military relationship, but her roaming hands and scraping fingernails dissolve the last ounce of his resistance. His brain conjures up all kinds of enticing scenarios—Carter on her knees pleasuring him, Carter riding him with fervor, Carter bent over his desk.

Jack’s body approves all of them with unrestrained enthusiasm.

The sudden forward pull of his hips draws a gasp from his tight throat. A primal groan chases it the moment her nimble fingers make short work of the belt buckle and brush against his throbbing member.

Jack throws his head back and succumbs to her prowess. Fuck, she’s talented. Better than the fantasy he nurtures in the privacy of his home every once in a while.

The zipper slides down and each unlocking tooth pair winds up the tension in his abdomen and thighs. He holds his breath in anticipation as she reaches insi-

UNSCHEDULED OFF-WORLD ACTIVATION

Startled, Jack jolts up and nearly falls off his armchair because of the momentum. Out of reflex, he claws at the nearest object, twists his legs to counter inertia, and clings to the edge of his desk like a sack of potatoes. Confused, his eyes dart around the office, chasing the already fading image of luscious lips and elegant fingers. There is no Carter, no blindfold, nothing at all.

Only his drool stains the requisition form for the sanitary supplies.

And the raging libido in his nether regions protests.

_Ah, shit!_ Jack slumps back and rubs his eye sockets with the ball of the thumb. The second he shuts his eyes, the sensual smile of his 2IC reappears and tries to lure him back into his dream. 

However, the blaring klaxon tears the illusion apart with its repetitive noise.

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and tames his still latent arousal by envisioning a long phone call with a member of the IOA. Eventually, his nerves settle, and his muscles loosen up. He takes one last calming breath, straightens his BDU shirt, and proceeds to the control room to check who or what causes this turmoil.

One day, he fears his perpetually bubbling feelings for Samantha Carter will erupt and embarrass him. Today, he has gotten off lightly.


End file.
